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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26002282">The luckiest unlucky night ever</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/angellteeth/pseuds/angellteeth'>angellteeth</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Gravity Falls</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Not proof reading any of this, but with a twist!, its the aftermath of stan getting locked in a trunk, vague violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:46:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,335</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26002282</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/angellteeth/pseuds/angellteeth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Stan made a call after he chewed his way out of the trunk of a car, and just by chance, was in Gravity Falls at the time?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>95</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>95</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this was inspired by an artist on tumblr, but I can't remember who. might have been artsymeeshee but uh who knows, my bad</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>What's more life shattering than all your opportunities being ruined by your own twin brother? That very same twin brother calling you up at two in the morning saying he wanted to make peace because he was <em>pretty</em> sure he was gonna be dead by the end of the week.</p><p> "I- Stanley <em>what</em> is going on?"</p><p> "Oh, I just uh, chewed my way out of the trunk of a car in a lake. And that's probably not gonna be the uh," He paused. It sounded like he spat something on the ground and audibly grimaced. "Probably not gonna be the end of it."</p><p> "<strong><em>WHAT?</em></strong> What did you <em>do?!</em>" Ford was shocked out of his tired stupor.</p><p> "Oh," He paused to spit again. "Piss off the wrong powerful Colombian guy, get locked in a trunk, it happens." </p><p> Stan's nonchalant attitude about this very serious situation was starting to get on Ford's nerves.</p><p> "Alright." He took a deep breath. "Where are you, Stanley?" Maybe there was <em>something</em> he could do.</p><p> "Some fucked up town in uh, Oregon I think? Now, I don't believe in all that junk," Stan covered the receiver and spat on the ground again, "But I'm pretty sure the lake they dumped me in was cursed or something. Why do ya ask?"</p><p> Well. That seemed. Familiar.</p><p> "Is this town called Gravity Falls by any chance?"</p><p> "I think so?"</p><p> "Can you tell me exactly where you are?"</p><p> "Outside some place called the Dusk 2 Dawn. Why is this," Stan paused and spat again. Ford thought he heard something hard hitting pavement this time. "Why is this important to you?"</p><p> "I can be there in twenty minutes. Stay where you are."</p><p> "You don-" Ford hung up and was already halfway out the door before Stan could finish his sentence.</p><p>For the first time in his life, he broke the speed limit and was at the Dusk 2 Dawn in fifteen minutes.</p><p>There was probably nothing worse than seeing Stan sitting on a sidewalk staring at a puddle of blood looking bored. Except maybe seeing him sitting on a sidewalk headless.</p><p>Ford nearly crashed his car in the Dusk 2 Dawn, scaring Stan half out of his wits. He <em>did</em> just get abducted. He had a right to be paranoid.</p><p>He got out of the car before Stan could run off.</p><p> "Stanley! It's just me." He made sure he was completely illuminated and identifiable.</p><p>All the life seemed to drain out of Stan with the adrenaline as he sunk back into sitting on the ground. "Fucks sake Ford, nearly ran me over." </p><p> "Stan, get up. I'm taking you to a hospital."</p><p> "Eh, don't bother." He spat out a glob of spit and blood. "I ain't got any money."</p><p> "Then I'll pay for it. Get up."</p><p> Stan scoffed. "That phone call was to make sure you didn't come 'n spit on my grave, not to make ya gimme your money."</p><p> "Stan I'm serious. Get up, you need a doctor."</p><p> "I can't pay for one, and I'm not takin <em>your</em> money. End of."</p><p> Ford pinched the bridge of nose. Did Stan really have to be so stubborn at a time like <em>this</em>?</p><p> "I'll drop it if the only problem with you right now is your face."</p><p> "You think I'm dumb enough to get my ribs broke in a hostage situation? I'm insulted." How Stan could make a joke right now was beyond Ford.</p><p> "Good, you're coming with me then."</p><p> "Excuse me?"</p><p> "You think I'd just leave you here like this? I'm insulted." Ford reached down to help him up.</p><p> Stan took his hand and pulled himself up, and got extremely dizzy the second he was on his feet. Who knows how much blood he's lost by now?</p><p>He gripped onto Ford's shoulders in an attempt to balance himself, but he probably would've fallen over anyway if Ford hadn't steadied him himself.</p><p>It was the closest thing to a hug Stan had in about fourteen years. And about the closest thing to a feeling of stability Stan had in seven.</p><p>Between the blood loss and the fact he was a bit less terrified for his life than usual, he was finding it harder and harder to keep it together and stand up on his own.</p><p>So he did neither.</p><p>He leaned on Ford completely for what may be the first time ever and just started to cry. Life was hard. He deserved a moment to just not worry about "showing weakness".</p><p>Ford wasn't too sure how to deal with that. He couldn't remember a time <em>he'd</em> been the one to comfort <em>Stan.</em></p><p>"I- You're gonna be okay, Lee. Whatever shit you've gotten yourself into, I'll help you out of it." He tried to be calm for the both of them and helped Stan to his car.</p><p> He intended to make good on that.</p><p>First though, he just had to get him home safe.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>this is one of those things that I definitely might continue and give a good ending for once, neat huh?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Stan bleeds some more.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ford would have had a very extensive chat with Stan on the drive back, but he'd stuffed a jacket in his mouth to keep him from bleeding all over the car. And Stan didn't seem like he'd be awake much longer. Probably best to just let him rest.</p><p>Though, Ford's driving had somehow gotten more reckless than it was n the way to get him. There was very little comfort in that ride for either of them. At least it only lasted ten minutes.</p><p>As soon as the car was stopped, Stan spat out the jacket and opened the car door so he could just bleed on the ground. Still not much luck with him standing up though.</p><p>Despite his heavily injured pride, he let Stanford help him again. Better than collapsing in his yard.</p><p>The second he was through the door, he had to have another thing shoved into his mouth. A cotton swab, this time.</p><p> "Your gums should stop bleeding by sometime tomorrow. I think. How many teeth did you even lose?"</p><p> Stan shrugged, and held up eight fingers after a little consideration. It wasn't exactly like he was counting.</p><p> "You really should see a doctor. Or a dentist I guess. Sit down," He waved his hand at his couch, "I'll find you something. Less wet for you to wear." Stan was understandably pretty soaked through. He hadn't actually thought about it until then, though. He'd had more pressing matters to deal with.</p><p> "I'll get you a towel, too. You can take a shower in the morning." Ford rambled on, quickly running upstairs. Stan only heard about half of it. He was half asleep the second he sat down.</p><p> He was also very belligerent about being shaken awake to dry off and change.</p><p> "Mmf... Jus' lemme shleep." He mumbled around the cotton in his mouth.</p><p> "Not like that you can't. Get up." Ford pulled him up.</p><p> "Youy'e thill ahhoying." Ford still didn't understand how Stan could just joke around after a life of death experience. Maybe it was just normal for him now? He didn't like that thought much.</p><p>At least Stan's attitude let Ford seem more relaxed than he was. "And you're still stubborn and childish." He shoved a towel into his hands. "Dry off before you get sick, mess up my couch, or both. Can you stand on your own?"</p><p> "I do nah neeh youy helh shanging my clothes, hank you hery uch." </p><p> "You better be right about that." Ford handed over the clothes he'd managed to scrounge up. "There's a bathroom on the right." He pointed down the hall by the stairway.</p><p> Stan leaned heavily on the wall when he walked. Not too reassuring.</p><p>Ford sighed and went to the kitchen. He couldn't be worried and dehydrated at the same time.</p><p>He pretty much walked face first into Fiddleford.</p><p> "Oh-" He'd pretty much forgot about his assistant. Who's lived with him for around a year now.</p><p> "Stanford, why in Heavens did you tear outta here at two AM and come back with a <em>guy</em>?"</p><p> "It's my brother, Stanley, he-"</p><p> "Ain't he the asshole that ruined yer life 'n what-not?" </p><p> Ford winced. He'd ranted at length about that night, and now he kinda regretted it. "Don't tell him I said that?" </p><p> Fiddleford sighed. "Fine. Why is he here? And why is he apparently having trouble standing on his own?"</p><p> "Well he had to chew his way out of the trunk of a car in the lake-"</p><p> Fidds dropped the irritated expression in less than a second. "Christ, is he <em>okay</em>?"</p><p> "He's alright, more or less, I think. He lost around eight teeth. Probably been bleeding pretty intensely."</p><p> Ford filled a cup with water and walked out of the kitchen with Fidds. Stan was already completely out on the couch.</p><p> "You can formally meet him in the morning, alright?"</p><p> "Seems fair, I reckon."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>im not sure how someone with cotton in their mouth talks :')</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Stan isn't a morning person.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first thing Stan felt when he woke up was <em>fear.</em> The gut wrenching kind you get after seven years of waking up in random places way too many times to be normal. The next thing he felt was a dull headache.</p><p>Then he remembered where he was and why. Well, only most of the why. He didn't remember talking to Ford or any kind of drive over, though most of those things must have happened for him to be there.</p><p>He did remember refusing medical help at some point, though.</p><p>Maybe that was a bad idea.</p><p>He licked his lips, and the second he moved his tongue, he felt wet, sticky cotton stuck to his gums. It felt. Bad.</p><p>He pulled out the cotton and grimaced. It was all stained red. At least the bleeding had gone down to an "ooze" instead of a "constant gush".</p><p>Deciding that wasn't the kind of thing he'd want to leave, despite definitely not being a very clean guy, he got up to find a trash can. This made the full headache become a pounding one.</p><p>"Fucks sake, can't catch a break." He mumbled and stumbled off towards what was probably a kitchen, judging by the half visible table.</p><p> Lucky him, it was in fact a kitchen. Meaning he'd be able to dispose of that gross cotton. Unlucky him, the space was already occupied by his brother and some guy with a big nose.</p><p>A conversation was the last thing he needed right now. He needed any kind of contact even less. An aspirin, that's what he needed.</p><p>But he definitely had no chance of getting out of it.</p><p> "Good to see you're up, Stan." Ford was a lot more polite to him than he thought was strictly necessary. "This is my associate," He waved his hand in the general direction of the other guy, "Fiddleford McGucket. He also lives here."</p><p> Stan didn't say anything immediately. He tossed the cotton wad into the trashcan and sat down first. Then he spoke.</p><p> "Gay."</p><p> First impressions. He's great at them.</p><p> "Fucks sake, Stan." Ford pinched the bridge of nose while Stan snickered to himself.</p><p> The big nosed guy, Fiddleford McGucket apparently, looked at Ford. "Yer brother is real charming, Stanford." </p><p> "Yeah, I know I am. And your name is fucking ridiculous." Stan shook the southerner's hand. "Got any aspirin?" He lost all the emotion in his voice and just let himself sound like absolute shit.</p><p> He could only keep the social act up for so long.</p><p> "Yikes, ya probably feel like ya been run over by a stampede, huh? Jus' a second." Fiddleford got up and walked out of the room.</p><p> "Is that guy normal? I call his name ridiculous and he gets me aspirin." Stan mumbled in Ford's general direction.</p><p> "He's just nice." Ford shrugged. </p><p> "...<em>Why?</em>"</p><p> "Lee, what kind of question even is that?"</p><p> Stan didn't even get to come up with an answer for him. Fiddleford was back and he'd set a bottle of aspirin and a cup of water on the table for him. He'd taken care to set them both down gently.</p><p>He mumbled his thanks and took two of the pills.</p><p> "Pleasure to meet ya, Stanley." He had a relaxed smile.</p><p> It made Stan uncomfortable. Why was this guy being <em>nice</em>? People only let things like having their name called "fucking ridiculous" when they had an angle.</p><p> But what the hell could his angle even <em>be?</em></p><p> "Um-" Fiddleford started to squirm and Stan realized he'd just been staring at him. And making a kinda "disgusted grimace" face.</p><p> "Uh-" Stan put on a smile that definitely would've been better with all his teeth. "Nice meetin' ya too, Fiddlenerd." Nice save.</p><p> "It's-" </p><p>Ford interrupted. "Don't correct him, he'll just say it more." He set down three mugs of coffee. "Stan, we need to have a discussion."</p><p> "A serious one?" Stan had been expecting something like that.</p><p> "Yes, a serious one-"</p><p> "Look, Sixer. I don't need no discussion. I'll leave-"</p><p> "What? No, you absolutely will not. That's not what I meant at all. I just want to know some. Stuff."</p><p> "What kind of <em>stuff</em>?"</p><p> "What have you been doing the last seven years?"</p><p> Stan snorted. "I'd rather leave." He'd definitely have to if Ford knew about his extensive criminal record.</p><p> "It can't be that bad-"</p><p> "Was bad enough to get me locked in my trunk and dumped in a lake."</p><p> "It's still important information."</p><p> "You just can't stand not knowing something."</p><p> "And you're stubborn."</p><p> "We knew that already."</p><p>Ford sighed. "You can talk about it and be fine, you know."</p><p> "Why do you even want to know?"</p><p> "I'm... Curious."</p><p> Stan was not impressed.</p><p>Fiddleford sighed and interjected. "What this numbskull is tryna say is, he's worried about ya."</p><p> Ford nodded. "Yeah, uh, that." Stan remembered him being bad at expressing his emotions, but he might have somehow gotten <em>worse.</em></p><p>Stan sighed. "Fine, fine. I'll tell ya my whole "tragic backstory" or whatever." He took a big gulp of coffee and got ready to divulge his whole life story and maybe get kicked out for it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>No idea, honestly. This one might be a weak link.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stan sighed. Time to buck up and tell at least half of his truth. Maybe a fourth?</p><p> "Well, the first year or so is pretty boring." His eyes rolled back as if he was looking for the memories in his own head. "I didn't have much cash on me, forty bucks at most, but I didn't bother myself with making more for a week. I also didn't bother spending it until then either, though. Except for gas."</p><p> "You didn't eat for a week?" Fiddleford interrupted. Interruptions would probably be common.</p><p> "Didn't feel like it. No biggie, I've gone longer." Stan shrugged. He did a great job of making both of the Fords look generally worried.</p><p> And the story hadn't even gotten bad yet.</p><p> "Anyhow, like I said. Not very exciting. I might have almost died one time? But other than that and getting run out of Jersey, nothing much happened except a lot of odd jobs."</p><p> "Why the devil did you get run out of Jersey?" It was Stanford's turn to interrupt.</p><p> "Heh, shammies." Stan offered no further explanation. Good thing his reputation preceded him, he didn't need to explain further.</p><p> "That was <em>you</em>?"</p><p> "I'm insulted its taken you this long to realize, honestly. We have the same face."</p><p> Ford snorted. "You know I don't watch TV. But even I know those things were horrible."</p><p> "Hey, you try building a brand funded mostly by begging." </p><p> Ford made a face. "Fair enough." He couldn't imagine Stan, of all people, <em>begging</em>. Desperate times, ya know?</p><p> "Suck though they might, it paid good enough to get out of Jersey before I got skewered by angry, stained people. Spent the rest of the year getting run out of states. I can't remember if any of those products were intended to be useful, honestly.</p><p>After people stopped buying whatever the fuck I was selling, I was fresh out of luck. So I started shoplifting."</p><p> He ignored Ford's slightly judgemental look. He was probably being a lot more judgemental on the inside.</p><p> "Mostly just canned food and hygiene products. You don't want to just not eat for a half a month. Trust me."</p><p> That wiped the judgement off his face.</p><p> "Lets see. After all I that, I managed to get work at as a garbage man in New York. If you get promoted enough, you get or have to get your picture taken dressed like a fake general, ya know. This did not happen to me. I got in a fist fight with Stan Lee and got arrested. Then I left New York."</p><p> "After that, I think I was a clown in Vermont."</p><p> "Excuse me?" Ford couldn't help but snicker. Thinking about it was just amusing. Which was probably a compliment, for a clown.</p><p> "You heard me. Clown in Vermont. That Gacy guy was real bad for business. Clowns deserve more respect."</p><p> "I'm sure they do."</p><p> "Now if you're done interrupting me, back to building my timeline. That all took around two years, and then my money making habits got more. Unsavory. Lotta drug related instances."</p><p> And the judgemental look was back on Ford's face. Spectacular.</p><p> "Don't gimme that look. It was easy money, and now I can make meth. Win-win, as far as I'm concerned."</p><p> "You're not making meth in my house, Stanley."</p><p> "I'll make in the woods, then." </p><p> "Stan, no."</p><p> Stan snickered. "Yeah, yeah, don't worry about it. Got involved with some people, learned how to make a pipe bomb, and got arrested in Columbia. To be clear, I've never actually made a pipe bomb."</p><p> Fiddleford was visibly relieved by this.</p><p> "I got out of jail before the rest of my.. Acquaintances? Would they be enemies now? Doesn't matter. What matters is I stole from them immediately and then got back into The States. Made my way to Oregon trying not to be murdered and we all know how that turned out." </p><p>He leaned back, deciding he was done. It was very clear he'd glossed over pretty much everything. But he wouldn't be getting away with that.</p><p> "Fiddleford, would you mind stepping out for a bit?" Stanford asked his friend, who politely obliged.</p><p> "Course not, Stanford." He gave a small nod and left the room.</p><p> Stan didn't know anyone who would just do as they were asked no fuss like that. It was still weird.</p><p> "So, it was a lot worse, wasn't it?" Ford cut right to the chase.</p><p> "Of course it was, ya knucklehead. Being homeless ain't no walk in the park." Stan rolled his eyes at the stupid question.</p><p> "Did you live in that car for seven years?"</p><p> "Eh, sometimes I got to stay in a motel for a few nights, but more or less, yeah. I did. Now its in a lake. I'm gonna be pissed about that for a while. Couldn't even supply their own car, assholes." He'd started grumbling to himself halfway through without realizing.</p><p> "We can replace your car-"</p><p> "Still not taking your money. Besides, the car is sentimental now."</p><p> "Why won't you accept help?"</p><p> "Because I don't need it. I can take care of myself."</p><p> "Stan, you don't have anything to take care of yourself <em>with</em>."</p><p> "Don't run it in."</p><p> Ford shut up for a second at the look Stan gave him.</p><p>He sighed. "Do you really have to be so stubborn? I can spend some money making sure you're okay without going bankrupt, ya know."</p><p> "It's the principle of the thing."</p><p> "What the hell kind of principle is not being able to accept a bit of help?"</p><p> "I'm not gonna be your charity case, Stanford."</p><p> Ford pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Will you at least think about seeing a doctor?"</p><p> Stan sighed heavily. "Fine, I'll think about it."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lots of dialogue! All about forcing Stan to see a fucking doctor.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"The answer didn't change the second time ya asked, or the third, or the fourth. However many times its been now, still no."</p><p> "Stanley, none of us are qualified to actually help you. And you need help. You lost a lot of blood, and who <em>knows</em> what else you have wrong with you."</p><p> "Doesn't matter how much blood I lost or if I got major internal problems. Not yer problem, ya know?"</p><p> "I will <em>make</em> it my problem."</p><p> Stan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He'd been up for a couple hours and he was pretty sure the headache had gotten worse. It was making his vision a little bit blurry. He had to sit down to deal with it.</p><p> "<em>Why</em> on earth would you do that, Stanford?"</p><p> "Why on earth <em>wouldn't</em> I, Stanley?"</p><p> "That's not an answer and you know it, genius. Do ya <em>want</em> somethin' from me?? Cuz' ya said it yourself, I don't <em>have</em> anything."</p><p> "<em>What</em>?? No, Stan, I don't want anything from you. Except for you to see a doctor!"</p><p> "Ya'd have to knock me out and drag me there yourself."</p><p> "Don't think I'm above it."</p><p> "Don't think you <em>could.</em>"</p><p> Ford grabbed him by the shoulder. "Stanley, why won't you just <em>listen</em>?!" </p><p> That made Stan tense. Maybe someone standing over him and being kind of blurry while grabbing him freaked him out a little. So what? Maybe he overreacted to freaking out a little and punched Ford in the stomach. So what?</p><p>Ford let go of him and doubled over, pressing one of his arms into his stomach. "Oh <em>fuck</em>- <strong><em>Ow</em></strong>-"</p><p> Stan was about to make some kind of apology, but he just kind of inhaled and shut up.</p><p>which meant it was time for the only one with any emotional intelligence to step in.</p><p>Fiddleford stepped between then both. "It's time fer both of ya to take from each other. You," He looked at Ford, " Go sit down. In another room."</p><p>Ford was about to protest, but something about Fiddleford's expression made him shut up and begrudgingly leave the room while Fiddleford pulled up a seat.</p><p> "Stanley, what exactly is the issue? Surely ya can see things from Stanford's point of view on this."</p><p> "The issue is it's unnecessary."</p><p> "Unnecessary my <em>ass</em>, when even was the last time ya saw a doctor?"</p><p> Stan stopped for a second to think about that. "Probably around... Seven... Years ago?"</p><p> "Stanley Pines, you are seeing a doctor, end of discussion."</p><p> "It's not worth your time or money, <em>end of discussion</em>."</p><p> "Well what the devil makes ya say that?"</p><p> "Don't worry about that."</p><p> "I <em>will</em> worry about it."</p><p> "You're... Way too nice."</p><p> "I- What?"</p><p> "You've known me for a few hours. Why the hell do you care about the dumb shit I say? What do you <em>want</em>?"</p><p> "Well, ya seem nice enough-"</p><p> "The first thing I did was insult you then demand aspirin."</p><p> Fiddleford sighed. Everyone in the Pines family just <em>has</em> to be difficult, huh?</p><p> "Ya didn't quite <em>demand</em> it, and it wasn't the worst insult I've ever gotten. And you woke up in some cabin in the woods missin' eight ah yer teeth. I wouldn't make a very good first impression either. I don't want nothin' from ya, but for ya to relax and let yerself be taken care of."</p><p>Stan squinted at him. He didn't look like he was lying, and if he was, he didn't have any tells that Stan could see. But that didn't mean he wasn't lying. But maybe it wouldn't hurt to be less tense while he was there.</p><p> "Fine, whatever, Fiddlenerd." He leaned back and shut his eyes. Arguing didn't help a headache. Just made him want to go to sleep.</p><p> Fiddleford sighed quietly and gave him a moment. He was a smart guy, he could tell he felt like shit. After a little bit of silence, he tried another angle.</p><p> "Ya know, he's only freakin' about it cuz he wants ya to be well." </p><p> Stan opened his eyes a crack and looked at him.</p><p> "Makin' sure you're not 'bout to croak is plenty worth our time 'n money, trust me." His face was too nice and trustable.</p><p> Stan shut his eyes again and sighed. "Fine, fine, I'll see a doctor."</p><p> "Thank you kindly, Stanley." Fiddleford stood up and pat him on the shoulder. He was awfully gentle with him. "I'll leave ya alone for now." He was halfway out the door when Stan mumbled something. "What was that?" He stopped and looked at him.</p><p> "Apologize to Ford for punching him for me, alright?"</p><p> Fiddleford smiled. From Stanford had said about him, he wasn't the apologizing type. Progress, then. </p><p> "Sure thing, bud."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This is filled because I didn't want to write a hospital visit because I don't know how to write that.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stan just sat there for a few minutes after Fiddleford left.</p><p>The headache didn't go down.</p><p>The aspirin really should have done something. Maybe he'd managed to build up a tolerance to aspirin. Or maybe it would have been a whole lot worse without the aspirin.</p><p>Maybe a doctor would be nice.</p><p>No, a doctor would <em>definitely</em> be nice.</p><p>He heaved himself up with a sigh. A walk wouldn't help feeling like shit physically but maybe it could help feeling like trash emotionally.</p><p>He thankfully avoided any interaction on his way out. He didn't need any "where are you going" or "you should probably just sit down" or any of that. He had no idea where he was gonna end up and he didn't need to sit down. Fuck that.</p><p>At some point during the morning it'd started to drizzle. It was nice.</p><p>He picked a direction and started walking. "Don't just wander around the woods" was probably common sense but common sense hadn't ever gotten him that far. And he always had great sense of direction anyway. He'd be fine.</p><p>Wandering had always cleared his head when he was young, monster headache or not.</p><p>Hadn't had much opportunity to wander after getting kicked out, though. All of his possessions being in a car had made him pretty attached to the car, whether the area was bad or not.</p><p>It was nice to have a walk again. Even if everything made his head throb.</p><p>He kept walking, and found himself wondering how it'd go if he just didn't stop walking. He'd probably die pretty quick. He didn't know enough about surviving in the woods off absolutely nothing.</p><p>He wondered how the Fords would react.</p><p>Fiddleford seemed aggressively nice enough to freak out a little if he just up and disappeared.</p><p>Ford might be happy to get rid of him. </p><p>He <em>had</em> just kind of upended his life last night. And he did punch him just for wanting him to see a doctor.</p><p>He groaned.</p><p>He could consider the pros and cons and reasons when he had less of a headache.</p><p>Speaking of, it had definitely gotten worse.</p><p>A nature walk is definitely not what you do after a physically and mentally traumatic experience.</p><p>He stopped walking and looked around. The rain had stopped and by the looks of it, it was around noon.</p><p>He turned on his heel and started walking back. As tempting as it was to just keep walking, he wanted to lay down. And shower. He'd forgotten to do that. And he couldn't really do either in the middle of the forest.</p><p>He also realized he'd forgotten about any kind of food. Though, none had been offered and even if it was he probably would've just said he was fine and not had any.</p><p>Maybe he could eat a pine cone. Wouldn't be the first time he ate something unconventional.</p><p>The closer he got to their house the worse he felt. He should've been gone hours ago. Shouldn't have even been there in the first place. But he had no way to get out either, unless he wanted to steal a car. Or just try his luck with no shelter whatsoever.</p><p>Neither were too appealing. Yet.</p><p>So he just had to suck it up and accept the hospitality.</p><p>He hoped he could avoid interaction coming back as he had going out, but that'd be too lucky.</p><p>He bumped right into Stanford, who appeared to be panicking.</p><p> "Fucking god, Stanley, don't just wander off like that!" He immediately started scolding him.</p><p> "Yeesh, calm down, Sixer. Wasn't gone that long." In truth he didn't actually know how long he was gone. Had it been ten when he left?</p><p> "Four hours. You were gone four hours."</p><p> "I can take care of myself for four hours."</p><p>Ford sighed. "Look, the woods around here are... Incredibly dangerous. You're in no state to get mauled."</p><p> "I think I could survive a mauling."</p><p> "I think you should avoid getting mauled."</p><p> "Fine, I won't get mauled."</p><p> "Thank you. Now go shower. Appointment is in an hour."</p><p> "Ugh, does it have to be today?"</p><p> "Yes today, it should've been last night. Now go shower."</p><p> "Yeah, yeah, I'm going." Stan sighed and ignored the pit in his stomach.</p><p> Part of him didn't <em>want</em> to know what was wrong with him. Ignorance is bliss, after all.</p><p>He walked off to take the first shower in a <em>very</em> long time.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Writing anything medicinal is so far from my strong suit :')</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stan sighed.</p><p>He didn't like anything about the situation.</p><p>He hated waiting rooms and the general smell of hospitals and some hick poking at him.</p><p><em>Getting</em> there wasn't exactly great either. Ford drove like someone who never learned to fear death.</p><p> "So, what would be the cause of your injuries?" The doctor asked him. She didn't make eye contact.</p><p> "I don't need to answer that." He had no desire to get into all <em>that</em>.</p><p> She sighed and went on with her tests methodically.</p><p>Lucky him, he was right about not having any fractured or broken bones. You'd think he'd notice a broken rib or something but you'd be surprised by how oblivious he could be when he wanted to. Pretty much all of him was rather bruised, though. And he predictably had a concussion.</p><p>The thing he was actually somewhat worried about was the blood loss.</p><p>Just laying on the ground for god knows how long and letting himself bleed wasn't his best move that night. Though, not his worst either.</p><p>According to a pulse oximeter he'd lost twenty five percent of his blood. Handy.</p><p>At least he apparently wouldn't <em>quite</em> need a blood transfusion. Just medication he'd probably never get. And if Ford got it for him, he'd probably forget to take it anyways.</p><p>She wrote down three prescriptions in hand writing he could barely read. Two for the blood, one for concussion induced nausea.</p><p>Beyond that, he'd just need some good old rest and relaxation.</p><p>Like he'd ever get that. His life was anything but relaxing.</p><p>A dentist was recommended to get a good look at his gums, but according to Ford, the dentists in Gravity Falls were "below average" and had a chance of just making it worse. So. That was a no-go.</p><p>With that, they were pretty sure Stan wasn't about to drop dead at any second and Ford had a bill that would take a nice chunk of his grant, which was "no problem" according to him.</p><p> "I'm driving this time." Stan said very matter of factly as they left.</p><p> "It's my car, and you're supposed to relax." Ford pointed out, taking his keys out of his pocket.</p><p> "Full offense but being in a car with you at the wheel has been one of the least relaxing experiences of my life." Stan yoinked his keys right out of his hand.</p><p> "If I remember correctly, you aren't the best at driving either."</p><p> "At least I'm not fearing for my life when I'm at the wheel. And besides, I've gotten better."</p><p> "You don't know where the pharmacy is."</p><p> "The pharmacy can wait. It's not life or death." Stan shrugged and got into the driver's side.</p><p> With a sigh, Ford took a seat in the passenger's side, ready to get absolutely fucked up by his brother's manic driving.</p><p>After a second, he seemed to remember something.</p><p> "Have you eaten today?"</p><p> Stan answered his question with a question. "Have <em>you?</em>"</p><p> Ford's moment of silence was answer enough.</p><p> "...We should eat something."</p><p> "Ya think?" Stan scoffed and drove off.</p><p>In Ford's opinion, he'd only gotten slightly better at driving.</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's only natural that he'd have some nightmares after all the shit he's been through.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Stan was gripped with terror that out matched absolutely every other terror he'd ever felt. He'd had near death experiences before, but they were usually characterized by a sense of apathy and at least a little control. But all that control was ripped away from him when he was shoved in the trunk of a car.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And now that damned trunk was filling up with water a lot faster than he thought cars were supposed to fill with a water and it felt like it was all getting smaller and smaller until it crushed him.</em>
</p><p><em>And then the entire thing was full and he was spitting up blood and trying to hold his breath at the same time and meanwhile the walls just got closer and</em> <strong><em>closer and he was being crushed and choking on blood and water and there was so much pain behind his eyeballs-</em></strong></p><p>
  <em>And everything fell out and got dark.</em>
</p><p>And he woke up on the floor of his brother's living room.</p><p>He sucked in air, vaguely noting that his lungs felt like they were on fire and wondering if he'd been holding his breath in his sleep.</p><p>He sat up and pressed his against the front of the couch.</p><p>It made him feel claustrophobic but the prickling feeling of paranoia lended by the empty space was worse. </p><p>He clenched his jaw and and wrapped his arms around himself, looking around wildly and trying not to shake.</p><p>Some nightmare shouldn't have messed him up so bad.</p><p>But to be fair, nearly drowning was one of the worst experiences of his life so far.</p><p>The sound of footsteps made his breathing stop altogether.</p><p>The urge to hide was stronger than it ever been but the room had absolutely nowhere to hide for someone his size and he wasn't sure he'd be able to make himself move anyway so he settled for huddling against the couch with his knees up to his chest and getting dizzier and dizzier the more he held his breath and trying to breath in vain as the footsteps rounded the corner-</p><p> "Stanley?"</p><p>Hearing his brother's voice, his body decided to unlock a little and he got to breath again, albeit not very much.</p><p> "What's wrong?" Ford asked, kneeling down next to him and looking concerned.</p><p> Unfortunately, Stan opened his mouth and his throat closed up. He snapped his mouth shut and decided to just focus on not suffocating instead. His answer wouldn't have helped anyway.</p><p>Ford shifting from kneeling to sitting, raising his hand up to Stan's shoulder, though he didn't actually touch him. Just let his hand hover there for a second. The message got across regardless.</p><p> "It's okay, Lee." His voice was blissfully quiet and familiar. "You're okay."</p><p> He kept up the affirmations for what felt like hours. It couldn't have been though, the light outside didn't change.</p><p>Eventually, Stan had his breathing more or less under control and he lost the strength to be tense anymore, leaning against the couch and stretching his legs out fully. Ford went quiet, giving him a second to catch his breath.</p><p> "Do you feel better?" He asked after a minute.</p><p> Stan just nodded.</p><p>Ford put a hand on his shoulder and he just crumpled completely, leaning on Ford's side instead of the couch. Ford shifted so his arm was around Stan's shoulders.</p><p>He felt a little safer.</p><p>After a couple minutes, he found his voice. "What time is it?" He sounded pretty bad.</p><p> "Four in the morning I believe, why?"</p><p> "Why are you up at four in the morning?"</p><p> "I was up working."</p><p> Stan exhaled through his nose a little harder. "Fuckin' course ya were."</p><p> He was quiet for a second.</p><p> "'M sorry."</p><p> Apparently all it takes for him to lose his reservations was a good old fashion panic attack.</p><p> "About what?" Ford sounded baffled.</p><p> "Everything, I guess." </p><p> Ford gently squeezed his shoulder. "It's okay, Lee. It's all okay."</p><p> Maybe it was just Stan, but he sounded just a bit guilty.</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Acceptance!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The morning after, Stan was sitting at the table. Partially against his will.</p><p>He'd just wanted to sleep longer but no, Ford was strict about making him eat and be social because it was "enriching" and "good for his health" or whatever. He was one to talk.</p><p>At least he'd gotten him to agree not make him talk about the whole panic attack thing.</p><p>But unfortunately he'd still have to talk about something.</p><p> "So Stan, about your living situation." Ford started.</p><p> That made him stiff. Anything even a little difficult was the last thing he wanted to talk about.</p><p> "You can stay here, if you'd like."</p><p> That practically made him choke. "Excuse me?"</p><p> "We can empty out a storage room so ya can actually sleep in a bed." Fiddleford added, getting a nod from Ford.</p><p> "You know I can't do anything for you, right?" Stan looked at Ford. "<em>You</em> of all people gotta know I'm an idiot."</p><p> "Stanley, don't say that." Ford's voice was firmer than Stan had ever heard it. "Besides, you don't have to do anything for us."</p><p> "Then what's the point in letting me stay?"</p><p> "So you don't have to live out of a car anymore." There was another one of those "blink and you'll miss it" flashes of guilt on Ford's face. He'd have to talk to him about that.</p><p> "We just want ta help ya, Stanley." Fiddleford's expression had no such guilt. Just his apparently endless patience.</p><p> It was almost enough to make Stan believe them. But adults typically didn't do things just out of the kindness of their hearts, in his experience.</p><p>But what's the worst that could happen? He'd end up on the streets again?</p><p>He lied to himself when he decided he could stomach that.</p><p> "Alright, sure, I can stick around." Stan shrugged, acting nonchalant about the best thing that's happened to him in seven years.</p><p> He wasn't prepared for now happy that apparently made Ford, who was buzzing with energy he shouldn't have after pulling an all-nighter.</p><p> "Great! We can deal with the room later. Firstly, there's some things about Gravity Falls you'll want to know."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>not the best ending but I rlly just wanted to get it done :'). there were supposed to be like 3 more chapters but I knew I wouldn't be able to do it, and I didn't wanna leave this undone. so I apologize if its bad but at least u get the gist</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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